Windows
by ViolentDelight
Summary: Looking outside the window I remember what Peeta and I went through so long ago, I remember what Haymitch helped us overcome. And I know that this is what I want for the rest of my life.


I've had this saved in my computer for a _long _time, but it wasn't till today that I felt I should just get over my irrational fear and post up the one-shot. The hardest part about writing this was trying to control my feels and picking a good title for this was just back breaking- nothing sounded good enough. Well anyway I hope all of you enjoy this as much as I enjoyed writing this. I can't wait to post more stories.

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_Windows _

I didn't knock on his door, I just walked right in. His house wasn't nearly as messy as it used to be. Once in awhile there'll be bottles on the floor and vomit, but it was far in between now. His house being an exact replica of my own, I knew exactly where everything was. And I knew exactly where to find him. There was a soft humming coming from the living room, when I turned the corner I found myself staring at Haymitch watching television.

Just like Plutarch had mentioned so many year ago, there was a singing show playing on television. I remember my mother mentioning it on the phone once, 24 go in to a competition and only one comes out a winner, the losers pack up and go home, that's my favorite part.

Haymitch is sitting on his couch, his feet propped up on the coffee table. He isn't drinking anything too strong, just a small can of beer, and he doesn't even look up at me in greeting. But I guess that's normal because all three of us-Haymitch, Peeta, and I- live in and out of each other's homes, so it doesn't really surprise neither of us when we catch one another lingering around.

I make my way to Haymitch and sit down next to him. He still doesn't look my way, so I lift my feet up and stretch them out over his thighs; I turn so that my back is pressed against the ugly dark green arm rest of the couch. I stare at him, and he only side glances at me once.

I'm here because I need to ask him something important, something I wouldn't even bother with if I didn't feel like Haymitch might think I'd be crossing the line. Because I know Haymitch. I know that even though we went through the same thing, he went through far much worse than I did, for a far longer time. I look up to Haymitch. He's taken the role as a parent to both, Peeta and I, so I feel it's only natural that I come to him for this. It's important that I ask him.

He sighs and takes a swig of his beer before, "What is it, sweetheart?" He looks me up and down, scrutinizing me. At the mention of my old nickname, my nose wrinkles. Everyone else might think he was calling me that out of affection- maybe he was _now-_ but it was also a reminder of my lack of emotion a decade ago. "Said something that hurt Peeta?"

The accusing questions, hurts more than it was intended to, because it's happened before. Now that Peeta and I are more official than ever, all are disagreements come from me. Everything we could possibly argue about comes to me. More often than not, I'm here asking Haymitch how I should find it in me to apologize for being insensitive.

"Not today, Haymitch." I try to appear nonchalant.

He takes a longer sip of his beer, this time I could hear gulping. "So what is it you come to bother me with?"

See what I mean? Haymitch hasn't changed all that much. A quality of his to always be rude and disinterested usually annoyed me until I wanted to rip my hair out, before I realized I was like him most of the time anyway.

I don't know how to answer his question because it gets me thinking, will it bother him? Will it bother him, for me to sit here and ask of him such a personal favor? Will I bring back memories he tries to forget, by drinking so much he can't see what's in front of him? Will he say no? And if he does say no, will my feelings be hurt? Of course they would, but I would understand, I know I would.

I'm older now, more mature. Haymitch has taught me well. He's taught me other people hurt and we don't deal with it the same. He's taught me I'm not the only human being in the planet who cries.

So I will understand if he doesn't want to, but then what? Will I be so hurt, I'll hurt him further by saying something I don't mean?

I guess it's so hard for me, because I can't explain my feelings. I can't tell others what I'm feeling so easily, I'm not good with words. I'm not Peeta. But I want to do this. I want to ask Haymitch this because biologically he's not my father, and could never replace him, but emotionally and mentally he's taken the role of a parent. He helped shape me into who I am today, he saved my life, he saved Peeta's life, he helped me open up again, and he helped me reach Peeta. He helped me overcome so many things, that I realize I'm not asking this because I feel obligated to, I'm asking him this because I _want_ this.

I want him to take the role.

He clears his throat and brings me back to the present moment. I stare at him. He looks old now, he still has his dark blonde hair to his chin, and he still has a beard, but you could see it, you can see the wrinkles more now. You can see his roots turning gray, and the crinkle near his eyelids. He looked beautiful. It was a great thing to reach old age in District 12, you know?

I look out the window he's left open. From here I can see the home Peeta and I share. The Primrose flowers that Peeta planted so long ago are still there, and I can see them from here too. The wind seems to blow and jostle them. I asked Peeta to plant dandelions there for me too, so that every spring when the flowers blossomed the dandelions, would stare at me, reminding me of a better tomorrow. The view the window gave me reminded me of my strength, of this families strength.

_This is what I want_, I think.

Looking back at Haymitch, I feel tears start to brim my eyes. Haymitch pushes my legs off him and scoots so that he can reach me. He tugs me forward, wrapping an arm around my shoulders, my head crashes to his chest, and I wait for the sobbing to begin, but it doesn't. Instead a few tears slip. See this is what I mean about Haymitch, doing things for me nobody else could. He understood when I was sad, and though I love Peeta's comforting arms, Haymitch never asks me, he never needs an explanation for why I'm upset he just does what he has to do. He lets me be, because sometimes that's what I need, just to be. I look up at Haymitch and see him looking out the window I was looking out of just seconds ago.

"Haymitch?" He looks down at me, his gray Seam eyes looking lively. "I came here specifically to ask you a question."

"Oh?" He smiles, showing me new wrinkles. Haymitch rarely, genuinely smiles. He usually smirks, or smiles sarcastically, sometimes his smiles look manic. But this one looks normal, genuine, and happy even.

"Peeta got me pregnant, did you know that?" I hide my face in embarrassment, because it feels like admitting to having sex, and I don't think sex is ever a topic I would like to discuss with anyone. You would think that after all these years of being an adult I wouldn't get embarrassed by topics like these, but old habits die hard.

I feel Haymitch take a swig of his beer, and feel as his chest moves up and down by the sudden jerkiness of swallowing. He sets his drink down, moving me forward with him, and then sitting back he laughs.

"You finally gave him what he wanted, eh?!" He laughs harder now, the comment could obviously be taken as a double meaning, but I know what he means. This catches me by surprise; I didn't know it was obvious to everyone that Peeta really wanted kids.

I poke his chest hard, "What do you mean finally? What's that suppose to mean?" I pull away to see his face, but not enough so that he's still half hugging me.

"You aren't the only one who comes to me for advice, sweetheart." He manages to get out through laughter.

Annoyed that Haymitch knew about it, because if he knew Peeta wanted kids, then he knew it would happen eventually. But to think, Peeta who had a way with words, Peeta who was so convincing at anything, would come to Haymitch for advice on something so personal, was hysterical.

"You must really love him." I mumble.

He stops laughing then straightening up, giving me a look. He didn't say anything. Which is good because now I could get to asking him the question, I'd been fighting with myself to ask him since I found out I was pregnant. It felt easier to ask him now, knowing how much he cared about Peeta. Peeta didn't know about me being here today, its okay though, because I know he wouldn't object to me wanting this. I was more positive than ever that Peeta would want this too.

So I inhaled deeply, looked right up at Haymitch and made sure to sound as confident of my decision as I felt, "Haymitch, I want my kid to call you Grandpa."His eyes widened, surprised he looked at me. As if it was the farthest thing from his mind, as if he never imagined that, that's why I was here. He thought our conversation was over with just my pregnant declaration. This is surprising because nothing _ever _surprises Haymitch. "Would that be okay with you?"

He laughed again, a loud boisterous laugh. It bounced off the walls, and felt so unnatural in his house. It felt great, and for a moment I was too shock to respond, too alarmed to have my mind focus on anything else but this mad man laughing.

"You save me and still want me to be your kid's grandpa?" I didn't get it then. I never saved Haymitch. Haymitch saved me, Haymitch saved Peeta. He chose me in the first... Games and chose Peeta in the second. He broke me out and saved me again, he held me when I found out what was happening to Peeta, he managed to convince them to bring Peeta back to me when he was captured by the Capitol, and he helped Peeta and I overcome the highjacking nightmares.

He saved me. "I don't understand… you saved me." I say barely above a whisper.

"You saved me from a life of loneliness, Katniss. You and Peeta, both."

And in that moment I see what he was saying. Haymitch had no one, because they killed everyone he loved just two weeks after he was crowned Victor. And now he has us. Now he has a family to turn to, when he's alone. That's why he tried so desperately to save us countless times.

"So that's a yes, Haymitch?" I ask.

"Call me grandpa, sweetheart."

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Please let me know what you think of my one-shot. Haymith is my favorite character in the novel and every father like part he had just turned me to mush.


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